


Max Goes to Prom

by orphan_account



Category: Shadowhunters (TV), The Mortal Instruments Series - Cassandra Clare
Genre: Auntie Isabelle is Loving This, Domestic Bliss, Domestic Fluff, Family Fluff, Fluff, Married Life, Multi, POV Alternating, Prom, brotherly teasing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-16
Updated: 2016-11-16
Packaged: 2018-08-31 07:35:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,270
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8569816
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: This was actually a sweet little prompt I filled on my side-blog: bane-lightwoodfam.tumblr.comand it turned into this monster that I just had to post. Shmoopy Malec Fam is my absolute favorite thing to write on a rainy day.





	

“Max, if you’re so worried you won’t get invited, just do the inviting.”

“Easy for you to say! You were invited to prom by Druscilla “The Bombshell” Blackthorn.”

The Lightwood-Bane boys were chilling at home one day after training. Papa was out on “high warlock business,” and Dad was in the kitchen with Uncle Jace, planning the next family trip to Idris. Max had waddled into Rafael’s room to face-plant on his brother’s bed, his dramatic groans muffled by the comforter.

Rafael was playing with his phone while he waited for Octavian "Tav" Blackthorn to portal over. His eyes never left the screen as his socked foot kicked at Max’s shoulder absent-mindedly. “That wasn’t a prom, buddy, that was an undercover demon-chase that happened to lead us into a high school dance.” He paused to give his brother an amused side-eye from behind his phone. “And you better not let Druscilla hear you calling her that. She’ll kick your ass.”

“I’d let her…” Max sighed dramatically.

Rafael laughed.

When he’d turned 14, Max had wanted to attend the mundane high school that his neighborhood best friends, Marlow and Zane, were planning to attend. And after a long conversation about glamours, keeping up his training, his magic education, and keeping the nephilim and downworlders existence a secret, his fathers had agreed to register Max that fall. (Even two years later, now in his sophomore year, his Dad was anxious about his attendance at a school for mundanes. But Max knew that his parents were constantly making sure he was okay from behind the scenes. Papa was a high warlock, after all--Max was certain they checked up on him by magical means. Sometimes, they'd just sick Rafael on him in their place; some days his older brother would wait for him outside the school gate to walk with him and his friends home. Max knew he was probably supposed to be embarrassed by it at this age, but Rafael was the resident “mysterious-heartthrob-older-brother,” and Max wasn’t above reaping the benefits that came along with being related to a local celebrity.)

Max had spent the last two weeks helping Zane scheme and execute his epic plan to ask Marlow to prom with him, and the three of them had celebrated in the hall (loudly) when she’d said yes. Now the three of them had turned their attention to Max, and finding him a date to prom.

“It’s just that-” Max interrupted himself with more dramatic groaning, “-I know it’s stupid but-” more dramatic sighing, “I just really wanna be ASKED to prom.” He flopped back onto his face, embarrassed.

Rafael kicked him lightly in the shoulder again. “I get that,” he said kindly. When it came to stuff like this--stuff that Max actually took somewhat seriously--Rafael said everything kindly.

“What if I don’t get aaaaaaasked,” Max whined.

He heard his brother shuffle into an upright position. When Max rolled his head on the bed to look at Rafe, he'd put his phone down to focus his full attention on his hopeless little brother.

“You still have a few days. Be patient.” Max pouted. “And if no one asks you? Go anyway, and dance with anyone who looks lonely or awkward. You’re good at making people feel included. Go anyway and work your magic, date or no date.”

Max sighed. Rafe was right. (Rafe was always right. He wanted to flip him off.)

“Yeah, alright…” Suddenly, Rafael shoved a socked foot into Max’s unsuspecting ribcage, sending him tumbling to the floor with a loud thump. “OW?!” Max rubbed his sore little horn.

"Tav’s almost here, bro. Out.”

Max moped back into the living room to moan and groan at his Dad and Uncle Jace.

 

\---

 

It was Max’s study period, and he was practically alone in the library, mumbling into his textbook about prom and how dumb it was. (Stupid Marlow and Zane. Stupid, adorable, PromCoupleMarlow&Zane.)

“Hey, Max.”

He jerked his head up to see Jerrick, his history class partner, looking down at him with pink cheeks and a folded piece of paper clenched tight in his right hand. 

Jerrick was a good friend of Marlow’s. He was an outdoorsy, hipster-looking boy with granddad glasses and constellation freckles spread across his handsome face. She’d mentioned him a few times, but Max and Jerrick never mingled much outside of history class. Max liked Jerrick, though--he was always friendly enough to laugh at Max’s jokes and put up with his generally obnoxious behavior in class.

“Hiya, Jerrick,” Max kicked out a chair for him to take. Jerrick accepted the seat with a nervous huff of a laugh. "Suh' dude?"

Jerrick kind of looked at Max and then down at the textbooks and loose paper spread out on the table, like he didn’t want to say whatever he had clearly been about to say. “So- uhh…well I kind of wanted to- uhm..." he nervous-coughed. "Marlow told me about your dads?” He said it like a question. A really fast-spoken, nervous question.

Max narrowed his eyes.

Seeing the look on Max’s face, Jerrick seemed to backtrack. “Shit okay, wait- I’m sorry, that- that was too weird, I should’ve started differently…” Jerrick adjusted his glasses. “I’ll just give you this-” He put the crumpled piece of paper he’d been carrying in his right hand on the table in front of Max and stood. He muttered a quick, “Later Max,” before fleeing the library.  
Blinking a few times, Max looked at the paper that had his name written on the top in sharpie. He opened it and read the scribbly ballpoint poem written on the inside:  
Max,  
Roses are rad,  
Violets are bomb,  
I think you're really cool,  
Wanna maybe go to Prom? 

Max laughed out loud, and flipped the page to read the writing on the back.

Okay Marlow told me to write you a poem but Im really no good at poetry Im sry. Ive always kind of had a crush on you and thought it would be safe to ask you to prom since you probably wouldnt  
judge because Marlow said you have dads that are like me….wow I suck at this but anyway my number is (xxx) xxx-xxxx if you wanna text me your answer since I probably wussed out and gave  
you this note instead of asking myself.  
Even if your answer is no, thanks for being so cool to me. I think youre really nice and funny and would like to just be friends too if thats cool.  
Jerrick

Grinning real big, Max pulled out his phone to text the number immediately:

DUDE OF COURSE ILL GO TO PROM WIT U

really????!!

ABSOFRUITLY  
we cant wear blue under any circumstances tho hope thats cool

Lol thats fine!!!! 

also my dads will wanna meet you before so wanna come over for dinner next saturday??

sure! that would be great! im nervous though?

Dont be. theyre a couple of old nerds. SEE YOU THEN BOO ;D <3 <3 

 

"Be patient." 

Rafael had been right. Rafael was always right.

 

\---

 

“I’m kind of nervous.”

Max and Rafael were sitting at the bus stop a few blocks from their townhouse, waiting for Jerrick in the late afternoon rain. Well, Max was waiting. For Jerrick. Rafael just wanted to see Max’s prom date for himself before he headed off to the institute for his weekly piano jam with Jace. Usually Max'd tag along to visit Clary and pow around the institute, but today was a special occasion, and when he'd texted her the explanation, all Max'd received in reply were ten heart-eye emojis, so he figured he was forgiven. Max’s leg bounced madly up and down.

“You’re never nervous.” Rafael's head was tipped up as he watched the rain fall on the glass panes of the overhang. “If you are, it’s usually just because you haven’t eaten yet.”

Max tried (unsuccessfully) to shove his brother off the bench. Rafael laughed. “It’s prom! I’m allowed to be nervous about prom.”

“Oh, Maxy.”

Max glared at his grinning, asshole brother. They looked up the street to see the bus heading their way, sloshing through puddles. It slowed to a sizzling stop a few feet in front of them. Max and Rafael stood, and Max could feel Rafe’s eyes on the back of his head as they watched Jerrick wait his turn to step off the bus and onto the sidewalk.

“That him?”

“Yup,” Max gulped. 

Having THE Magnus Bane as one of his fathers meant Max knew good style when he saw it--and Jerrick looked sharp. Even now, finally stepping off the bus, he was casually sporting an oversized sweater with a white button-up peaking out at the collar and the bottom hem, with rolled up skinny jeans, and a pair of cool socks, just visible above a pair of classic black vans. Max had always complimented Jerrick for his crazy, colorfully-patterned socks. He was also roughly a head taller than Max--about the same height as Rafael. He had short, wavy blonde hair that was slicked up, and a really friendly, freckled face. His granddad glasses were endearing as ever. 

“I see why you’re nervous. He looks like Dad when he lets Papa dress him up for a night out.”

“MMHMM.” Max wasn’t all that fashionable. (Marlow and Zane said he dressed like a “street rat skater boy.” Which he didn’t think was a good thing but always shook it off, since Zane dressed pretty similarly: vans, beanies, ripped-up khaki chino pants, and a closet full of plain white t-shirts.) In comparison, Max felt like a burlap sack with legs. He’d have to step up his game.

“Hey, Max.”

“Hey, Jerrick!” Max was always louder when he was anxious. He cursed himself. He heard his brother snicker and cursed him, too, for being 100% smoother than him at all times. “Hey, Jerrick, I’m Rafael. Maxy's older brother.” He stuck out a friendly hand.

Jerrick took it shyly. “Nice to meet you.” He didn’t look star-struck, like most people Rafael laid his charm on, but he definitely seemed bashful. “I’ve heard a lot about you.”

Max shoved Rafe toward the bus. “He sure has--I like to talk about your incessant snoring and your horrible hand-writing and your strange obsession with James Taylor in class for all to hear.”

Rafael snorted as he made his way out from under the overhang, slapping a large hand over Max’s face as he passed. “It was nice to meet you Jerrick,” he said politely. “Have fun Maxy.”

x

They’d walked a block with Max’s endless stream of nervous babble filling the air, before, about halfway to the house, Jerrick started laughing, hiding his smile behind his fist as he did.

Max looked over at him with pinched eyebrows, “Agh I’m sorry, I know I’m being annoying. I can’t seem to shut up. I’m just nervous! I’ll shut up.”

“No, it’s fine, it’s fine!” They were still walking, Jerrick still grinning, when Jerrick threw up a hand and shook his head. “I’m sorry--I’m just laughing because I’m so relieved that you're nervous, too.”

Max smiled shyly, kicking at the pavement a little.

“You don’t have to shut up, Max.” Jerrick smiled over at him. “I know Marlow always teases you about your rambling in class, but I think it’s funny. It's fun, sitting behind you in history.”  
After that, the conversation was easy and full of nervous laughter. The boys couldn’t stop grinning for the rest of the walk back to his place. Max’s dimples were sore. 

x

Jerrick had headed for the bathroom as soon as they reached home. It was the perfect chance to gather his parents for a pre-dinner pep-talk.

His dads were in the kitchen playing a kick-the-loser round of cribbage. Max elected, for the first time maybe ever, to ignore the perfect “old men” cheap-shot at their playing cribbage on a saturday afternoon. Instead, he fell into the chair beside Alec to lay a dramatic hand on the board, effectively pausing the game. He looked seriously between his parents. “SOME GROUND RULES," he announced. 

Magnus rolled his eyes and put set his hand of cards on the table. “That’s our line, bug.”

“NOT THIS TIME. I gotta be quick, since Jerrick’s in the bathroom.” Max cleared his throat and ignored the familiar twin looks of fond amusement. “First, no saying the word ‘crush.’ That word is off-limits in any and all contexts.”

“Oh, this is good.” Alec said, leaning a lazy arm over the back of Max’s chair with a crooked smile. Magnus nodded at him with wide eyes and high brows, mock-solemnly.

“No ‘Blueberry Boy’ or baby pictures or embarrassing quotes.” He looked squarely across the table at Magnus. 

Magnus lifted both hands in resigned acquiescence.

“No grilling about school or college plans.” He looked over at Alec.

Alec scoffed mildly, but nodded once for Max's benefit. 

x

“So, you’re in Max’s history class?” Alec asked. Max groaned out loud.

Alec and Magnus were bustling leisurely around the kitchen, assembling dinner as Max and his prom date sat beside each other at the kitchen table shuffling the deck of cards between them.

“Yes.” Jerrick answered politely. “We’re partners.”

“Oh, then- were you the one who helped Max with the Emancipation Proclamation paper?” Alec had a dish towel slung over his shoulder and a cheese grader in his right hand as he looked over at the boys. Magnus felt warm as he pulled the cutlery out; sometimes he was struck all over again by how well domesticity suited Alexander. And himself. Before Max and Rafe, he never would have guessed.

“Yeah – he’s the reason I passed.” Max replied, grinning. 

Alec shot their youngest a chastising look at the casual mention of his shoddy record in history class. He and Magnus had had to stay up more than a few nights to help keep Max from ripping his flash cards to shreds. (It hadn’t taken long for them to realize that Max was mildly dyslexic, so classes that were reliant on essays and heavy reading required more attention and a different approach.) It was gratifying to see that they weren’t the only ones reaching out to help Max when he needed it.

They gathered the food, had Max and Jerrick set the table, and sat, passing the food around as they gently pulled Jerrick out of his nervous-polite shell with jokes and talk of their own worst subjects in school (which Magnus just knew Maxy relished with villainous glee--he would remember this, Magnus was sure of it). 

Magnus, for one, was savoring the experience: their littlest boy and his handsome first date sitting across he and his husband in their home, looking for all the world as if in there was no better place to be. 

It had taken approximately three seconds of Jerrick’s shy, sparkling glances at his son for Magnus to decide that he liked him. Anyone who could sit beside Max and enjoy him for all his riotous quirks was someone Magnus approved of. 

Alexander, too, seemed to like the boy. Magnus could tell by the way he felt Alec’s hand reach for his under the table. He could tell that Alec was as proud of Max as he was; anyone could tell that Max was putting real effort into making Jerrick feel safe and at ease in their home.

And it was working. Jerrick was glowing. Magnus knew better than anyone what it felt like to feel true acceptance; to experience such kindness and genuine affection in the face of being labeled “different.”

It was a gift Max and Alexander shared: genuity. Acceptance. The purest form of kindness there was.

x

“Thanks for having me, Max. It was really fun.”

Max laughed and shuffled his socked feet on the welcome mat outside the front door of their New York townhouse. Jerrick’s sister had parked a block away to pick him up. Max could feel his parents eyes on them from the window and flipped them the bird from behind his back as he followed Jerrick down the small flight of stairs onto the sidewalk. “I told you--just a couple of old farts. Totally harmless.”

Jerrick laughed, too. Bigger and brighter than he had before, a lot of his shyness having dissipated throughout dinner. “I can see where you get your sense of humor.” He looked up at Max from the sidewalk. Max was standing on the last stair, nearly at Jerrick's height. “Thanks again for being so cool about all this. I’d only really come out to Marlow when I asked you to prom. I wasn’t...sure what you’d say.”

Max dimpled at him. “No worries. I’m pretty sure I like boys and girls both. I don’t really have a lot of experience,” he paused to laugh nervously, “but I know I like you, dude.”

Jerrick’s eyes widened. His cheeks turned rosy. “Really?”

“Yeah, I mean- I couldn't stop smiling after I read your note!”

They both laughed softly, looking down at each other’s shoes.

“One more thing, Jerrick.”

He looked up to meet Max’s eyes, which was easy enough now that they were at the same height, and watched as Max leaned forward and kissed him. 

It was light, and it didn’t last long. But both boys separated with hazy eyes.

Max took a long, slow intake of breath. “OKAYHAVEAGOODNIGHTSEEYOUMONDAY!” And with that, Max was up the stairs and back inside in seconds, heart racing.

Jerrick stood for a moment, blinking up at the front door of the Lightwood-Bane residence, and smiled bigger than he’d ever smiled before as he stumbled away, cheeks ruddy and eyes sparkling.  
Max Lightwood-Bane, he thought to himself. Best prom date ever.

 

\---

 

Alec wasn’t generally one to boast. He wasn't the type to brag or gloat. It wasn’t his style. But when it came to his family…

Alec was pretty smug.

Max was a good kid. A quirky loudmouth with a heart of gold and wild as the magic pulsing through his blue, blue veins.

And whenever Max dressed up--when his youngest really went for it and ironed the only white button-up shirt in his possession--Alec realized all over again how fast his kid was growing up. Their Blueberry Boy; now a dapper, doe-eyed, 16-year-old heartbreaker.

Alec’s heart ached a little as he watched Isabelle fix her nephew’s bowtie.

“Alright if you try to purposely make it crooked one more time it’s hands off and zero assistance from Aunt Iz, Maxy.” She said. Alec knew that voice. That was his sister's fatal, ‘ignore me and pay the price’ voice. Alec chewed on his cheek to keep from smiling as he leaned on Max’s door frame, arms crossed and smile fond, as he watched Max exhale impatiently and place his arms back at his sides.

Alec felt an arm drape itself over his shoulder and turned his head to see Rafael, his oldest, his brown-eyed warrior, standing just behind him, peeking into his little brother’s room with a teasing warmth in his eyes. “Papa’s still up in arms over Max’s nay-say to the paisley suit. He’s hurt bad, Dad.”

Alec huffed a laugh. “Hurt?”

“Inconsolable.” Alec and Rafael turned amused eyes on Magnus as he approached the doorway and rested his chin on Rafael’s shoulder, pouting. “I got that suit in a Paris auction for a steal--brought it back because I thought it would look perfect on our precious Maxy.”

Max groaned from inside his room. “Papa, c’mon- it’s PAISLEY.” He stood stiff as a plank under his aunt’s tedious ministrations with the lint-roller. “I’m 15. I don’t have a lot of pride as it is. I need to save up. Paisley puts me in Pride Debt.”

Rafael snorted. Magnus lifted his chin from his son’s shoulder and strolled into Max’s room to collapse dramatically on his son's bed with a loud sigh. 

“Shove off, Bane, the lavender looks great. Just like I said it would.” Alec had never heard his sister sound so self-satisfied.

x

Magnus didn’t know what to do with himself.

Rafael was helping Max with his boutonniere and it’s flowery twin (meant for Max’s PROM DATE) in the kitchen, Isabelle was on the phone with her beau absorbing a twenty-second lesson on operating digital cameras so she could take pictures of Max and his PROM DATE, and Alexander was outside, shuffling Max’s friends--and his PROM DATE--into their home for pictures.

Max had a date and they were going to prom and Magnus wanted the world to stop stop STOP.

Never had time seemed to go so fast as it did now that he had children.

And never had Magnus wanted so badly for everything to slow down--for time to shut up and go away forever and leave him and his perfect family alone--as when any of them reached a milestone like this. His baby boy was going off to his first dance with his first ever date and suddenly time seemed so wretchedly cruel that he just wanted to magic it into a big black hole where it might cease to exist entirely.

As if his husband could hear his howling thoughts, Magnus felt Alexander’s warm hand on the small of his back, achingly affectionate and impossibly understanding. He angled his head, leaning into his husband’s steadfast shoulder.

They watched Max as he and his friends ogled each other’s outfits, all flushed with excitement and bashful teasing. Magnus wanted to drag Max into his arms and burst into tears and order his baby boy to go back to being a baby.

Trouble was, Magnus was also bursting with pride. (He thought he’d become accustomed to the dichotomy of loving Alexander and Rafael and Max, but no--it still caught him by surprise, how his heart could be soaring and sinking all at the same time.)

He felt pride for the friends who so clearly adored and admired Max. Pride for the magnetism their Maxy possessed; everyone pulled in by his cheeky smiles and bright eyes and loud, infectious laugh.

Pride for the brilliant boy he and Alexander had raised, together.

Alec’s hand trailed a soothing path up and down Magnus’ arm as they watched Max fuss with his bowtie (completely ignoring his Aunt’s baleful glare) before approaching Jerrick.

Max had just pinned the matching boutonniere onto Jerrick’s lapel, and the boy was positively pink with delight. They could see the joy bubbling through him in waves of nervous giggles as Max fixed his bowtie. Even Rafael’s jesting from the stairwell as Isabelle positioned everyone for pictures couldn’t dim the group’s blissful glow.

“He looks so grown up. I can’t believe how grown up he is....” Alexander whispered in his ear.

“I can’t believe it, either…” He felt a happy tear slip down his cheek, sniffing and straightening himself before Max could catch any forbidden waterworks. “I can’t believe he isn’t wearing that gorgeous paisley suit,” he sighed theatrically. “Such a waste of silk.”

At the sound of Alexander’s quiet, equally watery laugh, Magnus let himself soak up the moment--this perfectly tortuous moment in the unstoppable and precious force that was time--and breathe.

x

For Max, the limousine ride had been fraught with bouncing knees and hands that had no idea where the hell they were supposed to be; in his lap? On his knees? On Jerrick’s knees? HANDS. WHERE DID HE USUALLY PUT THEM. WHERE DID THEY USUALLY GO. WHAT EVEN WERE HANDS.

“You alright, Max?” Jerrick had asked.

Everyone -- Max, Jerrick, Zane and Marlow -- had all voted to squish into the back seat together. Max was at the window seat, Jerrick squished tight to his right side, Marlow squished to Jerrick’s right side, and Zane comfortably (confidently, smugly) spooning Marlow into his left side. They’d been laughing about something Marlow had said when they’d turned a corner, and gravity had shifted Max impossibly closer to Jerrick.

He felt like the entire right side of his body was on fire. He’d never felt like this before. It made him sweaty and panicky. “Oh yeah! Just- car sick.”

The pinch between Jerrick’s eyebrows made Max’s gut twist with guilt -- he didn’t want to make Jerrick feel awkward! He didn’t want Jerrick to know he was nervous! So finally, in an attempt to console his date and stop his hands from doing the awkward macarena, Max lifted his left hand to set it on Jerrick’s right. He smiled at his friend. “I’m excited for the dance.”

Jerrick looked pink and handsome, even in the darkness of the limo. “Me, too.”

x

The first thing they all did when they got to the outdoor venue was head straight for the dance floor. Max felt the bass-heavy beat kick in, and knew it was His Time.

Max loved dancing. He wasn’t good at dancing, but he loved dancing. Going balls-out, making his friends and family collapse into fits of laughter with the crap-tastic moves he pulled out of his ass was what Max Lightwood-Bane had been born to do.

The four friends made a small circle at the center of the dance floor, and--as always--dove right in. Max pulled out the worm, did some horrible break-dancing with Zane, and gave his best shot at twerking with Marlow, which had Zane and Jerrick crying, they were laughing so hard. 

And then, finally, the first slow dance--The Weepies’ “Please Speak Well Of Me”--drifted softly through the speakers, blanketing the dancefloor with a sweet silence. Marlow, her green eyes and pink sequins sparkling under the lights, took Zane by his tie as the two of them slid apart from their small group, smiling shyly back at Jerrick and Max. 

x

Jerrick felt himself turn to Max with timid eyes.

The truth was, the two of them had been drawing attention to themselves all night. It was sort of Jerrick’s official coming out, and a bit of a surprise from Max, as well.

Without meaning to, Jerrick’s date had cultivated a reputation at their high school as the freshman “Class Clown”; Max was the cute skater boy with a diabolical sense of humor and a mouth too big for his own good. He was popular because he was funny and (somehow) nice, too.

But Jerrick was far more reserved. He didn’t have any kind of “reputation,” because he never talked much in school. Kept to himself and his small group of friends.

And so here they were; Surprise Power Couple of the Night.

Suddenly everyone was waiting to see what he and Max did.

Fortunately for Jerrick, Max was an oblivious idiot who was so caught up in the intimacy of his first dance that he didn’t even notice all their voyeuristic peers.

Unfortunately for Jerrick, this meant that Max was entirely focused on him. 

But Max wouldn’t be Max if he didn’t smile that smile -- the smile Jerrick recognized now as the one Max used to put others at ease -- as he pulled Jerrick closer. And closer. Until there was no space between them at all. Until Max had his forehead to Jerrick’s with a shy, exhaled, “Hi.”

And all Jerrick could do was let his nervous heart take off. He didn’t think he’d ever been this happy. He didn’t know how it was possible for Max to have this much power; to warm Jerrick from the inside-out. All he could do was look into his date’s warm eyes and say, so quietly it was almost a whisper, “I’m really glad it’s you.”

Max quirked an eyebrow, unable to stop smiling. Jerrick knew the feeling.

“I’m glad that you’re my first dance.” Jerrick closed his eyes, letting himself confess what he’d been trying to confess since their first kiss on the steps of the Lightwood-Bane townhouse. “I can’t believe you were my first kiss and my first date. I’m just- I’m really glad it’s you, Max. I’m really happy it was you and your family that gave me the strength-” he felt himself choke on the lump in his throat. 

He felt Max’s hand on his cheek, the boy’s other hand squeezing Jerrick’s hip reassuringly. “I’m pretty lucky, too.” Max replied, cheeks on fire and eyes seeming to trace the freckles on Jerrick’s face. “I mean- I was twerking back there, and you’re still dancing with me.”

Jerrick’s laugh was loud and unabashed, his insides bursting. “That’s true, that was a thing that happened.”

“And at least it happened in my sassy-classy suit. I texted you the pic of that paisley embarrassment, right?”

Jerrick laughed even harder. “Yes- yeah, you did.” He and Max let themselves sway. “I don’t know, though, I think I’d still have happily been your paisley date.”

“I’m never ever going to tell Papa that you just said that.” 

They laughed.

Max and Jerrick swayed through the song, and this time it was Jerrick who leaned in to kiss Max. (Who sputtered and turned a deep burgundy before smiling so big Jerrick thought he’d broke him.)

They let themselves hold onto each other a little longer, even into the upbeat song that followed. When Marlow and Zane found their way back to them, they were bouncing excitedly to the party music.

All throughout the night, Max’s dimples were sore.

x

“Alright, it’s midnight, Dad. How are you not suspicious.”

“Because Max just texted me that he’s on his way home, butthole.” Alec replied mildly over his book. Rafael wanted to make fun of the reader glasses that made his dad's blue eyes look ten times bigger than they were. 

They were all in their pajamas in Magnus and Alec’s room. Magnus was lying on the floor, cuddling Chairman Meow to his chest as he magicked the cat’s fur different colors. Alec was propped against the bed’s headboard so he could read his no-doubt-boring book, his long legs crossed over the covers. And Rafael was lounging--upside down--in the loveseat that sat beneath the large, circular window, letting out soft huffs and short sighs every time he glanced at his watch.

None of them were doing a convincing job of not-waiting-up-for-Max.

When they heard the soft “click” of the front door, they all stilled and looked at each other, no one breathing, no one moving. They listened to Max’s soft footsteps as they shuffled across the kitchen tile below before making their way slowly up the stairwell. The three of them looked at each other, visibly flinching with every footstep until Alec whisper-hissed a hasty, “ACT NATURAL,” just as Max appeared in the doorway.

His bowtie hung untied from his collar--blue skin flushed a happy, dark purple, jacket under his arm--as he bit into an apple smugly. He stood there for a while, the only sound in the room the sound of his apple crunching behind his smiling lips.

Rafael broke first, “So?!”

Max took one more bite, clearly relishing the torture he inflicted on his wide-eyed, open-mouthed family. “I twerked and he liked it.”

There was a contemplative pause before his parents and brother burst into riotous laughter and loud cheering.

Alec wiped away a tear, still chuckling as he said, “I’m so proud.”

And with that, Max launched himself onto the bed beside Alec, watching with mirth in his eyes as Magnus rose to sprawl on the bed on Max’s other side, Rafael draping himself over all their legs. When they were all comfortably squished together and settled on the bed, Max launched into the hilarious (and totally adorable) recap of The Best Prom Ever.


End file.
